Chapter 7 Outside the Room
Outside the Room
At seven thirty Thursday night, Brewster Bay looked like somebody had plugged the whole resort into the pool.
Electric-blue light rolled across the water.
The path lamps we had spent half of Wednesday rewiring cast warm circles from the lodge to the docks, and every circle seemed to hold another cluster of college kids in swimwear.
Music hit hard enough to shake the bottles on our temporary plywood counter.
The outdoor bar was still raw lumber, exposed framing, two coolers, and optimism, but Sam had a line three people deep and nobody seemed bothered by the missing finish work.
I came up from the dock shirtless in my swim trunks with a bag of ice against one shoulder and a stack of clean towels under my other arm.
Sally intercepted me before I reached the counter.
“Ice to Sam. Towels to me. Try to follow the system, Smoke Show.”
I stopped. “Did you seriously just call me Smoke Show?”
Sally’s face tightened. “Under protest. It’s become operational terminology.”
“You hate that nickname.”
“I hate a lot of things about this summer. Ice to Sam. Towels to me.”
“You built the system six minutes ago.”
“And it’s already being undermined by management.”
She took the towels. Sam leaned across the counter for the ice, and I had just started lifting it toward him when Kit slid between us and put one cool hand flat against my stomach.
"Borrowing him," she said.
Sam accepted the bag from me. "Please do. He keeps checking my pour counts."
"Because you're making everything too strong."
"That's why people like me."
Kit caught the back of my neck and pulled me down before I could answer. Her kiss was warm, easy, and deep enough to make the girl waiting for a drink whistle. Kit ignored her and brushed her thumb across my lower lip.
"You haven't stopped moving since dinner, baby."
"People keep needing things."
"People will survive thirty seconds without you."
She kissed me again, smiling into it, and I slid one hand around her waist. The knot of her white cover-up pressed into my palm.
"Better?" she asked.
"Much."
"Good. Go carry something heavy so everyone can stare."
"You say that like you don't stare."
Kit's smile turned bright and proud. "I stared first."
She let me go and returned to the two guests she had been helping find open chairs. She made it three steps before Poppy appeared from the other direction and wrapped herself around my back.
Her arms locked across my stomach. Her cheek settled between my shoulder blades, and her whole body pressed to mine with the boneless certainty of a woman who had no intention of asking whether she belonged there.
"Found you," she said.
"Was I lost, Sugar Pop?"
"Constantly. It's one of your more exhausting qualities."
I turned inside her arms. Poppy wore tiny pink shorts over her bikini bottoms and one of our faded Brewster Bay tanks, knotted above her waist. Two nights after I'd given her every minute she'd asked for, she looked settled all the way through. Not quieter. Just certain.
She rose onto her toes and kissed the center of my chest.
"I've been keeping this party alive," she said. "I deserve physical praise later."
"That can be arranged."
"Good answer, baby."
Poppy gave my waist one last squeeze and drifted toward Kit, catching her hand as she went. They folded into the crowd together without either of them needing to look back to know I was watching.
Vina controlled the music beside the speakers in a red bikini and black mesh cover-up that covered very little. She caught me looking and crooked one finger.
"Problem, Lips?"
"Volume's perfect. I'm perfect." She hooked a finger into the waistband at my hip and pulled me close. "You looked underkissed."
"Kit just kissed me."
"Kit kisses sweet. I'm providing range."
Vina's mouth hit mine before I could point out that Kit had plenty of range. Her tongue swept in, cherry gloss and confidence, and her fingers flexed against my bare stomach. Then she stole my water and walked backward toward the speakers.
"Relationships require sacrifice, Smoke Show."
Luna had brought enough Kappa Rho women to claim the south side of the pool. She stood among them in a white bikini, settling an argument about floating-chair ownership. Her expression softened when she saw me.
Luna stepped out of the group, slid her palm over my ribs, and kissed the corner of my mouth.
"The path lights work," she said, fingers lingering at my waist. "Find me later."
"I will."
Luna returned to her sisters, and Lucy called my name from the pool before I could move.
She had a volleyball net stretched across the shallow end and six people waiting for her to explain rules they had apparently already broken. Lucy pointed at me with the ball.
"You're judging the relay later."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"Bossy, Ace."
"Efficient." She served the ball hard enough to make the guy across from her duck. "Learn the difference."
Bristol found me near the lounge chairs. She didn't call me over or make a show of it. Her fingers slipped through mine while she passed, her thumb brushing once over my knuckles.
"Busy," she said.
"A little."
"You like it."
"A lot."
Her mouth curved. "I know."
She held on for three more steps, then released me to help a guest move a chair out of the path. Bristol could make five seconds of contact carry more weight than most people managed with a speech.
People had stopped asking whether the six women around me were real. Now they watched the way each one touched me and tried to decide whether the room had any space left in it.
Jessa Lane was watching harder than most.
She stood on the pool steps in a bright yellow bikini, red-brown hair piled into a loose knot that was already coming apart.
A bottle of water hung from two fingers.
She laughed at something one of the Kappa girls said, but her gaze kept returning to me.
Kit's kiss. Poppy's arms around my waist. Vina's tongue in my mouth.
Luna's hand on my ribs. Lucy ordering me into her plans.
Bristol taking my hand because she wanted it.
Jessa had been at Rosewater when she'd first told me everybody else was outside the room. She had stood at the unfinished bar on Monday when Poppy said the relationships were real.
She knew what she was looking at.
The slow drag of her gaze down my bare chest said she had stopped being satisfied with looking.
Jessa pushed away from the steps and clapped twice over her head.
"Kappa versus Delta relay," she shouted. "Three swimmers each. Smoke Show judges because he's too pretty to trust and too honest to bribe."
The pool crowd turned toward her as if she had pulled a switch.
"That description contradicted itself," I called.
"Then prove me wrong."
Jessa set her water bottle on the table beside Luna's towel and started drafting swimmers. Poppy, Luna, and Jessa took the Kappa lane. Kit, Vina, and Lucy lined up for Delta Omega. Bristol claimed timer duty beside me, which mostly meant she held Lucy's phone and watched everyone else get wet.
"No diving on top of each other," I said. "Touch the wall before the next swimmer goes. One length down, one length back."
Vina rolled her shoulders. "He gets so authoritative around chlorine."
"Save it for the water, Lips."
"Promises, promises."
Lucy took the Delta anchor position. Jessa claimed Kappa's. They eyed each other across the lane rope with matching competitive smiles.
"Ready?" I asked.
Poppy bounced on her toes. "Born ready."
"You said that before water-skiing too," Luna told her.
"And I looked adorable falling."
I raised one hand. "Go."
Kit and Poppy hit the water together. The crowd surged to the edge, shouting house names and advice nobody in the pool could hear. Kit cut through the lane with compact, angry efficiency. Poppy made up for technique with enthusiasm and enough splashing to soak Bristol's legs.
Luna and Vina launched next. Luna owned the water the same way she owned skis, clean and athletic, but Vina refused to lose at anything with an audience. They hit the far wall together and came back with Luna half a hand ahead.
Then Lucy and Jessa dove.
Lucy moved like a woman who had spent her life teaching her body to obey. Jessa moved like losing would insult her ancestors. They hit the turn almost together. Jessa gained on the way back, red-brown hair streaming behind her, but Lucy's fingertips struck the wall first.
Delta Omega exploded.
Half the deck shouted with them, though most had no idea what had been won beyond loud, temporary bragging rights.
Vina climbed out screaming victory. Kit caught Poppy in a wet hug despite being on opposite teams. Luna pointed at Jessa and announced that the anchor had failed them.
Jessa surfaced, wiped water from her face, and looked straight at me.
"Bad call," she said.
"You lost."
"I touched with my whole hand. Lucy used fingertips."
"That's how racing works."
Jessa hauled herself from the pool directly in front of me.
Water streamed down her shoulders and ran through the valley between her breasts.
The yellow bikini had darkened where it clung to her curves.
She pushed wet hair away from her face and came close enough that droplets landed across my bare feet.
"I think you need a better look," she said.
Her palm landed on my shoulder. She turned toward the wall as if she meant to show me the disputed finish, and her breast pressed firmly along my arm.
"I saw it."
"From all the way over here?" Jessa leaned closer, bringing her mouth beside my ear. "Maybe the view distracted you."
"The view didn't change the finish."
"But it distracted you."
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my chest. Wet fingers spread over my pec, slow enough to stop pretending the touch belonged to the race. She watched my face as her palm moved, measuring my reaction without hiding what she wanted.
My pulse jumped under her hand.
Jessa smiled. "That answers one question."
"Did you have several?"
"I'm curious by nature."